


a ghost of a chance

by AmiLu



Series: 12 Months Challenge [5]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Don't copy to another site, F/F, Ghosts, Light-Hearted, Minor Uchiha Sasuke/Uzumaki Naruto, Mystery, Past Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-30
Updated: 2019-05-30
Packaged: 2020-03-29 13:24:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19020817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmiLu/pseuds/AmiLu
Summary: “Okay,” she says. She feels silly, talking to thin air. “It’s not that I don’t like the outfits, they are really lovely and I appreciate all your help, but why do you always do it when I’m not looking?”As she expects, there is no answer. She sighs, puts on the outfit, and goes to class.





	a ghost of a chance

**Author's Note:**

> For "Maystery" at 12 months challenge.
> 
> (It was supposed to be a fill for 'ghost' at 100 fandoms challenge and also for "So dress me up I'll like it better if we both pretend" at femslashficlets, and then I realized I had already written for Naruto and I went way over 1k. Haha.)
> 
> (And yes I'm still terrible at picking titles.)

It happens first on a Wednesday.

It’s not really relevant, the day. It’s not even something Sakura really pays attention to, being in such a hurry as she is to finish preparing so she can go to class. She’s running late and would forsake a shower if not for the fact that’s what she did yesterday and she’s starting to feel rather disgusting. A five-minute shower and a coffee to go are better than a hurriedly eaten bowl of cereals, right? She can take a small break later and eat something more nutritious then.

She comes out of the shower enveloped in a thick cloud of steam, with a towel around her body and another around her head, catching the moisture of her pink hair. She’s trying to mentally arrange her schedule, trying to find the time to do everything she has to in the day, making a list of the groceries she has to buy and trying to come up with a proper outfit for the day at the same time, so it takes a minute before she notices.

She stops. Blinks.

There’s a set of clothes on top of the bed (a bed she doesn’t remember making), and even though it is not any of the outfits she was considering in her mind, she loves it.

She puts it on without giving it much thought (because she did make the bed and spread out the outfit before getting into the shower, didn’t she? There’s no other option.) She doesn’t have the time to ponder on her brief memory lapse so she ignores it, picking up her bag and running out of the door.

She arrives barely on time, Starbucks on hand, but she doesn’t let her students notice she's out of breath. Sakura smiles and invites them in, and the collection of young college students enter her classroom with their typical noisiness. Sakura gulps what is left of her coffee while they sort themselves out, and then she delves into the topic of the day: autoimmune diseases.

Sakura had been scared to all hell when Tsunade first proposed her to take on a class of her own. She hadn’t felt ready, believing that she had still too many things to learn from her teacher, but Tsunade insisted. Being a TA back when she was still a student was an amazing experience, but the first few classes in which she was in charge, alone, were utterly terrifying. Apparently, the students had been pleased with her, and after hearing some good things about her teaching methods and her classes in general she relaxed. Now she’s come to love what she does—it is not going to be forever, probably, as Sakura really wants to work full time in the hospital, but...

She has a small break between this group and the next one, and she uses it to make good on her promise to herself and eats something.

She teaches her second class and then she’s free, but instead of going back home to sleep (as she would very much like, she’s dead tired) she makes a pit stop in the supermarket because she’s been out of groceries for two days and she’s tired of eating take out.

Once she’s back home it’s already late and she barely has the strength to make a quick dinner, eat it, and fall face first into her pillow. She’s asleep in seconds.

The next two days are better, as she doesn’t have class either Thursday or Friday, but she has twelve hour shifts on the weekend and then on Monday she trains with Lee, and on Tuesday Naruto begs her to babysit as he and Sasuke have some kind event to attend for work, and so by Wednesday she’s once again dead tired as she has barely had any sleep.

She’s late again, and when she comes out of the shower, her clothes are ready, waiting for her. The sense of deja vu is strong, and she frowns. She knows she didn’t prepare them, as she literally rolled out of bed and entered the bathroom without so much as looking around her room, but she doesn’t have the time to question it. She hurries through her routine and practically runs to class, but the event doesn’t completely disappear from her mind, not like the last time.

What could it mean?

* * *

 

Next, it happens on Sunday.

She has a date, a first date, with a woman she met on one of those dating sites online, and Sakura is hopeful. She’s not as nervous or as excited as she was the first couple of times she did this, but still. The hope is milder but it’s still there, and they get along well enough via chat, so…

She is not running late, not really, but she still finds a gorgeous outfit on her bed once she comes out of the bathroom. She’s undeniably spooked, because she is sure she hasn’t put it together (she doesn’t even remember she owned that skirt, and she certainly wouldn’t have thought to combine it with those boots or that top), but it looks pretty. She searches her room first and then the whole apartment, and when she doesn’t find any sign of people being around at all, she shrugs and decides to try it on. She looks into the mirror and her green eyes widen, as it actually suits her.

She loves it.

The date goes well: Hinata is lovely and shy and Sakura has a good time with her, so they agree to a second date next Saturday, but Sakura doesn’t think they’ll keep it up. It’s a sad thought, but Sakura didn’t feel any chemistry when chatting face to face. But who knows, maybe they could become friends.

* * *

 

When on Monday she finds another outfit on her bed, Sakura looks around again and puts her hands on her hips.

“Okay,” she says. She feels silly, talking to thin air. “It’s not that I don’t like the outfits, they are really lovely and I appreciate all your help, but why do you always do it when I’m not looking?”

As she expects, there is no answer. She sighs, puts on the outfit, and goes to class.

She keeps being dressed the whole week. She feels like a doll, or maybe a fashion model. She recognizes most of the clothes as hers, though some of them she hasn’t worn in years, to the point she doesn’t even know where they were stored. She’s undeniably curious, and though she doesn’t quite think it’s ‘fairies’ ‘ghosts’ or ‘monsters under the bed’, as Naruto put it once she told him about it, she thinks it’d be better than somebody having a key to her home. She’d like to think it is one of her friends, but she knows it’s not their style of prank—and none of them have the sense of style whoever is combining her clothes has. Maybe it is a nosy fashionista neighbor? Maybe they somehow have her key, or maybe they are secretly Spiderman and are tired of looking at her wearing the same boring outfits every week.

She should be scared. She knows this is not normal, but—

She’s not. Whoever or whatever is helping her, it’s obvious that they don’t have any malicious intent, and they do make her look good (her friends have noticed and commented on it, as so have her coworkers, and that teenage-boy with blond hair that talked about art during checkout the other day.

Sakura feels…nice. And she can’t help but be grateful for this little gesture, so she frequently gives her thanks aloud in her room, just in case her mysterious helper can hear her.

* * *

 

The pattern repeats the next week, and so on Friday she decides to stop and buy some items of clothing that she likes individually but has no clue how to combine, and when she goes back home she says, “I bought some new things for you to play with. I hope you like them as much as I do.”

* * *

 

It becomes a routine, and in doing so, the itch to discover the identity of her helper grows and grows, and so she starts trying to catch them in the act: coming home early, pretending to be taking a shower and coming suddenly into the bedroom, other things. Nothing helps, and the mystery grows, and Sakura really really _really_ wants to know.

Then one day she has a date and it goes wonderful. It turns to two, to three, to four, to months of dating and becoming ‘official’. Her mysterious helper continues picking up her outfits for her, and she still buys one or two things every month to add to her wardrobe, but the mystery of their identity is not a priority anymore.

And then her lover leaves her. They break it off in not a such good manner and it hurts so much, she really had thought this would be _it,_ and it’s not, and she can’t help but hole herself up and cry in her room for a whole day.

It’s then that she feels...something, on her shoulders. The sensation is not quite cool and not quite physical. Odd. Then a soft voice makes a shushing sound, and Sakura opens her eyes, surprised, her sobs cutting off.

It’s a woman.

She's around her age, maybe older, maybe younger, it’s impossible to say. Almost transparent, surrounded by golden light, she smiles at Sakura, just a tiny bit awkward, and pushes a lock of long hair behind her colorless ear.

She’s beautiful, breathtaking, and Sakura doesn’t know her name but wants to.

And she’s _dead._

“You are a ghost,” Sakura says, rather dumbly.

“Yes,” the lady ghost agrees, sheepish. “I am. My name is Ino. I’m sorry if I scared you.”

Sakura chuckles and wipes at her eyes. “You didn’t. Well, you surprised me a little, but… I already kind of thought you were probably a ghost.”

“Or Spiderman,” Ino points out, cheeky, and Sakura blushes bright red.

“You heard that?” she asks, mortified.

“I did,” Ino grins. “I heard everything. I was right here.”

Sakura frowns, then asks, tentatively, “Why didn’t you come out before, then?”

“I’m… well, I’m actually a new ghost,” Ino says, embarrassed. “And I wasn’t strong enough to manifest fully before. I was here for a while before I could help you with your clothes.”

“Ah.” The blush, which was starting to subside, comes back with a vengeance. Sakura clears her throat. “So you’ve… always been here, with, uh, me?” _Have you seen me do all the stupid shit I do,_ she thinks, _have you seen me naked, oh god, have you seen me_ masturbate _?_

Going by the awkward cough and the way Ino doesn’t make eye contact, yes, she has seen something.

Sakura groans and hides her face behind her hands. Her voice is strangled when she adds, “No, no. Don’t tell me. Please. I don’t want to know.”

Ino clears her throat and sits on the bed right beside her. The silence is just only a little bit awkward, and it slowly disappears as they stay silent together. Sakura moves her hands away from her face and peeks at her ghostly companion, curious. There’s something about her…

“Did I know you?” she blurts, because she apparently has no tact whatsoever. “When you were, uh, alive?”

Ino’s smile is a small thing, and it makes Sakura’s chest ache something fierce.

“Not really,” she says. “I work in a flower shop, and you usually pass by and enter the Starbucks that’s right on the other side. And, well, you’re beautiful.” If she had color, Sakura is sure there would be a dusting of red on her cheeks. Sakura’s are, at least, and it would be unfair if Ino didn't. “I wanted to approach you, maybe ask you on a date, or see if you were interested at least, but—” she smiles again, but it’s a sad thing. “I was thinking about it when the driver hit me,” she shrugs, as if it isn’t important, as if it doesn’t make Sakura want to cry at the injustice of it. “And when I woke up, I was here, but you couldn’t see me.”

It’s. It’s heartbreaking. To think of the possibilities, of the potential—

“And the clothes?” Sakura asks, curious about that particular quirk.

Ino smiles again, closer to a smirk. “I worked in a flower shop, but I was also a clothing designer.”

“Aha! I wasn’t _that_ far off, then!”

Ino chuckles, and she looks lovely, and Sakura wonders how much better she would look like in color. Was her hair blond, brunette? Did she have brown eyes? Green? For some reason, Sakura things a pale blue would have suited her face.

Maybe one day she will have the courage to ask.

* * *

 

The routine continues, with barely any change, but now her ghostly companion is visible most of the time, and they can chat and give each other company and advice and solace.

It’s like living with a girlfriend, and maybe they even are, though they never put it into words. The truth is that Sakura stops going out on dates, and she keeps wearing the outfits Ino prepares for her, and even though they can never really touch, and nobody else is able to see Ino (they tested it with Naruto and Sasuke and their kids, but nothing), it reaches a point that they just simply pretend.

(A love like theirs is impossible, but they will make it work.)

 

The End.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! <3


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